


The Meaning of Change

by Volixagarde



Category: jacksepticeye
Genre: Other, Soulmates, jacksepticeye - Freeform, x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volixagarde/pseuds/Volixagarde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[[jacksepticeye x reader]] At your job as a bartender in a Las Vegas casino, things never truly changed. It wasn't until you woke up from a one night stand to see your handwriting on a stranger's back. He was your soulmate, and through time, he taught you that change isn't always a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meaning of Change

You wake up to the back of someone’s neck in your face. 

You sit up, covering your chest with the blanket, and see the beautiful man that had been your little spoon for the night sleeping peacefully. The rising sun reflected on his bright green hair, which was begging to be combed.

As you wake up more, you start to piece together what had happened the night before.

“Jack, hmm? With a name like that, you'd better be good at poker.” You said to the man next to you at the bar after hearing him being called Jack by his friends.

“Nah, my luck is shit.” He said in a distinctly Irish accent and smiled. “And my real name is Sean.”

“Shouldn't you have the whole 'luck of the Irish’ thing going?” You laughed and took drink from the glass in front to you. It was stronger than you expected, so you coughed slightly.

“I'm considered my friends’ personal lucky charm, but I'm not lucky myself.”

“Maybe you could get lucky tonight, if you catch my drift.” You gave an exaggerated wink.

“Hey.” He looked down at his drink and then back to you. “Do you want to go dancing?” He offered his hand.

You took his hand. “Of course.”

The rest of the night was a blur until your back hit the bed in the seedy motel. You were drunk and giggly, and for once in your life, happy. You thought it would only last a night.

“G’ morning.” The man, Jack, said groggily as he sat up.

“Morning.” You laughed. “Last night was nice.”

“Yeah, it was.” Jack smiled and looked you in the eyes. You noticed for the first time how strikingly beautiful and blue they were. 

“So, what now?” You ask, looking around. “More sex, breakfast, you leave without giving me anything to remember you by or vice versa?”

“Hmm, how about breakfast?” He pats his stomach. “Although morning sex is a very close second.” He flashes a grin that melts your ovaries. God, he's so handsome.

“Well, then we should probably get dressed.” Jack says as he stands up. He makes no effort to hide that perfect ass of his. Why wouldn't he? You've seen each other in your most vulnerable states.

You notice the writing on his lower back. At first, you think it's a tattoo, but as you look closer, you notice it's in your handwriting.

“Hey, umm, Jack?” You ask. “Did I write on your back last night?”

“Not that I know of.” He says as he puts on his boxers. “Why?”

Your heart nearly skips a beat. The writing is the first words you said to him. They're his soul mark.

You finally found your soulmate.

“We're soulmates.” You say to him.

He blinks in surprise. “Well then. That changes things.” He grins and turns to you. “I suppose I never introduced myself. I'm Sean McLoughlin, although you can call me Jack.”

You take his hand and introduce yourself. 

“So, that brings up the question. What now?” You ask. “Do we go get married? Do I introduce you to my friends?”

“Umm, I think we already took care of the marriage part.” Jack grabs a piece of paper off of the bed stand and shows you.

It's a marriage certificate from the drive through marriage chapel in Vegas. Those certificates are a relic from the past, before soulmates were discovered. Once they developed the serum that helped you find your soulmate via writing on your skin. People used to get married before knowing if the one across from them was meant for them. Sometimes, people would get married without even knowing the other person's name, hence the existence of places like the drive through chapel. They keep the chapel open for people who want to pretend they've found the one, even of only for a night.

You never thought you would do something like this, yet here you are, staring at the paper that pronounces you Mrs. McLoughlin, wife of Sean McLoughlin. 

“Do you think we knew we're soulmates?” You ask, taking the paper. Mrs. McLoughlin. You could grow to love the name, especially attached to your own.

“It's not an official document, by the way. And I can't remember.” Jack says as he puts on his pants.

“Neither can I.” You stand up and hug him. “Doesn't matter. I found you.”

He wraps his arms around your still naked body, and you feel like the pressure that had been building ever since you were born could escape now.

Sean McLoughlin.

You finally found him.


End file.
